The Prodigal Son
by Amhran na bhFiann
Summary: After a failed assassination attempt against the Governor's life, Five-0 must find the assassin before he comes back and finishes the job. However, things get complicated when Steve forms a relationship with the cold-blooded yet troubled killer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: The timeline of this story is a little wonky. I originally set it in season 2 but changed it to season 1 (~2010) halfway through writing it. Because of this, there are some inconsistencies with the canon timeline.

This is my first successful attempt at a multi-chapter fic. It's mostly done but just needs editing at this point. I will try to update once a week.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He let out a yawn as he stretched his arms across the king-sized mattress. His internal clock hadn't fully adjusted yet, leaving him tired and wishing he could just stay in bed for the entire day. Glancing over at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was already 7:23. He had been lying in bed, trying to find the motivation to leave his warm cocoon for the past twenty-three minutes.

He sighed and reluctantly got out of bed. Although he was in Hawaii, the cold air still hit him and he shivered at the chilly breeze. He walked over to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashed some water onto his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Grabbing the towel he had carelessly thrown onto the counter earlier, he dried off his face.

Feeling more awake and alert now, he walked out of the bathroom and quickly got dressed. Running a hand through his brown hair, he picked up the baseball cap he had left on the desk and pulled it down slightly so the brim could obscure his facial features while not drawing any unnecessary attention his way. Re-entering the bathroom, he examined himself in the mirror and noted the ambiguity of his appearance. If someone were to give his current description to the police, it would match half the people on the island.

As he left the bathroom, he glanced out the window to see two young children playing on the playground across the street. The younger of the two was on the swing set while the other was busy trying to climb up the slide only to slide back down in a fruitless attempt to make it up. Sitting across from them were their parents, laughing at their child's antics.

Sometimes, he found himself wondering what his life would have been like if he had grown up like those children; growing up with loving parents, a supportive household environment and the freedom to decide his future. It was his one dream, something that he prayed for every day. He always thought that if he wished for something enough that one day it would come true. But, so far, nothing had materialised.

Leaving the window, he faced the reality of his situation. Walking towards his bed, he reached underneath it to pull out his suitcase. Placing it onto the bed, he opened it up to reveal a locked metallic box inside. He took it out and unlocked it, revealing a pistol. It was a M1911 with a black finish and wood grips.

He picked it up and examined it. It would have been easier to take his target out perched on top of the building across the street with a single bullet through the head. Pick him off with his sniper rifle. It was so simple yet effective. However, it was also boring.

The contract specified who he was to kill. But, it did not specify how he had to carry out this task. He would take the liberties he wanted. All that mattered was that he got the job done and didn't get caught in the process. That was what he was being paid to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

He wasn't nervous; this wouldn't be his first time killing. He remembered the first time he took someone's life like it was yesterday. It was seven years ago and he had been a nervous wreck. His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding, he was sweating and was about to pass out. But, there was something about holding someone's life in his hands that gave him an addicting rush of adrenaline. He couldn't explain why it was so addicting, it just was. As a result, by his second contract, the nervousness that previously plagued him quickly dispelled and all he felt was that same addictive rush.

Realising he had to leave soon, he tucked his pistol into the holster inside the waistband. He looked at his reflection once more in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door and left.

* * *

Steve McGarrett had to stifle back a yawn. He had not envisioned his Sunday morning standing behind Governor Samuel Denning, the Governor of Hawaii, while he addressed the crowd about some topic that Steve had absolutely no care about. Worse was the fact that he was here as his own personal bodyguard. However, he was provided some comfort that, as part of the stipulation, Danny also had to be here with him.

Scanning the crowd, he saw nothing that would raise an alarm. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his face in an attempt to keep himself on task. When he opened his eyes again, he scanned the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time. However, this time, his eyes focused in on a man wearing a dark blue baseball cap.

Something about him made Steve's sixth sense tingle. The man was slowly making his way through the crowd towards the Governor. He stopped when he was approximately fifty metres away. Steve saw him fumbling around in his pockets for something.

Steve watched in horror as the man pulled out a pistol and raised it straight at the Governor. Out of instinct, Steve yelled some kind of warning, but he was too focused on the unfolding crisis to recognise the words coming out of his mouth.

Suddenly, he heard the sound he had been dreading the most; the distinct sound of a gun going off. Another shot rang off. He ran towards the Governor, only to watch him fall down as blood began seeping through his chest.

"Governor," he said as he caught his fall. The Governor had been hit twice. One in the chest, the other in the shoulder.

"McGarrett…" he replied weakly, trying to grasp onto Steve but failing.

"Governor, you're going to be fine," he reassured, putting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. Turning around, so he wasn't facing Denning, he yelled, "Someone call an ambulance!"

"Governor." Steve looked up and saw Danny running towards them.

"Danny, stay with Denning. I'm going after the shooter." Steve didn't bother to make sure Danny heard what he said. He stood up and surveyed the chaos around him. The crowd was screaming and had begun dispersing.

He quickly caught sight of the shooter. He was standing in the same spot as before, impervious to the surrounding chaos. Both men stood frozen in their stance, analysing the other. Steve couldn't get a good look at the gunman's face because of his ballcap but he could have sworn he saw a grin on the other man's face. However, before he could make out any distinctive facial features, the gunman turned around and bolted.

"Freeze! Five-0!" Steve shouted, running after the gunman.

The shooter pushed through the crowd and Steve struggled to keep track of the dark blue cap in the sea of other heads. Stumbling into a middle-aged woman, he pushed her aside as he looked for any sign of the perpetrator.

He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eyes. Before he registered what he had just seen, his training kicked in and he was already running in the direction of the movement. Turning the corner, he spotted the gunman about half a block ahead of him.

"Five-0! Stop!" he yelled. It wasn't a surprise when he ignored his command again and continued to run. Steve cursed under his breath as he pushed himself to run faster. Although slowly, he was gaining ground.

The gunman rounded another corner, running into an alleyway. Steve couldn't help but smile when he recognised the alley as a dead end. He was cornered at last.

Steve ran into the alley and saw the gunman standing in the middle, his back towards him. "Five-0! Hands on your head and turn around," he yelled.

"Steven McGarrett." His voice was frighteningly calm and had no hint of fear or nervousness. "Head of Hawaii Five-0. Former Navy SEAL. And, from what I've heard, a damn good one as well," the gunman paused and chuckled at his own words. "Now tell me something McGarrett, how did it feel to hear your own father die?"

The question caught him off guard and he was glad the bastard couldn't see his shocked reaction. "Place your hands on your head and turn around slowly," he said, attempting to ignore the comment about his father.

Surprisingly he obeyed, this time, putting his hands up as he began turning around.

McGarrett caught his first glimpse of the shooter's face and was shocked at what he saw. Instead of the face of a hardened killer, he was staring into the face of a kid. He had to have been no older than eighteen. His eyes were cold and snake-like but at the same time, there was a sense of innocence attached to them. "You're just a kid…" he trailed as he subconsciously lowered his weapon due to the presence of the youngster.

Before he realised what he had done, the kid had slammed his shoulder into his chest. Dropping his weapon, he felt the wind rushing out of his lungs as he fell to the ground. Spotting his weapon a few feet away, he grabbed it and sprang to his feet. Looking around, the alley was empty. Running out onto the street, the kid was nowhere to be seen.

He was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I want a uniform with the Governor at all times," Danny barked into his phone, "No one enters his room without the expressed permission of Five-0. Got it? Good." He pocketed his phone and looked around. He saw Duke and ran over to him. "Hey Duke, I need to find McGarrett. You got everything under control here?" he asked.

"I'm good here Danny. Go find Steve."

* * *

"Steve! Steve! There you are! What happened? Are you hurt?" Danny came running into the alleyway, weapon drawn, ready to take on the gunman. Looking at his surroundings, he realised he and Steve were alone. It didn't take him long to make his own conclusions on what had happened.

"White male, average height, slim build," Steve began. He didn't bother answering Danny's question. Right now, all he wanted to do was nail that cocky bastard.

"Wha–"

"Wearing black t-shirt and jeans," he continued as he began pacing back and forth, "Here's his baseball cap. It fell off during the chase. Make sure you send it to Fong." He handed Danny the ballcap.

"Slow do–"

"Professional; he's killed before. Probably a contract killer."

"Steve! Slow down! You're not making any sense. Now answer my question: are you hurt?" Danny asked, fed up with Steve always cutting him off.

"I'm OK. How's Denning doing?"

"Alive but in critical condition. Ambulance came and brought him to the hospital but the paramedics couldn't say his chances. Now tell me Steve, what happened?"

"He got away," Steve confessed.

"Well obviously. It's a pretty safe to assume he got away when he's nowhere to be seen," Danny said, this time his voice louder and with a hint of anger. Steve recognised this tone of voice. It meant that Danny was on the verge of going into rant mode.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" he snapped, hoping to prevent one his partner's infamous rants.

"Sorry, continue."

"I chased him into this alleyway. Told him to turn around and surprisingly he did."

"And then…" Danny urged him.

"Caught me off guard and tackled me," shrugged Steve, "By the time I got up, he was gone."

Danny eyed him suspiciously as his detective skills analysed the information his partner had just given him. "What aren't you telling me?" he questioned. Steve was a Navy SEAL. It wasn't like him to allow a suspect to get the upper hand and escape.

Steve sighed, shaking his head. "Our guy…he's a kid, Danny. Couldn't be older than eighteen."

Danny stood there unconvinced. "An eighteen year old professional hit man?" he questioned.

Steve nodded.

"He's probably just–"

"No," Steve said, cutting Danny off again.

"Would you quit cutting me off?" Danny looked at Steve who simply raised his hands in defeat. "Thank you," he continued, "As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, how do you know this guy isn't just some local kid who grew up on the wrong side of town and wanted to be famous for killing the Governor?"

"He's done this before. Wasn't nervous or anything. Hell, he was even teasing me. On top of that, he knew who I was, knew about Five-0 and the fact I'm a SEAL."

"You talked to him?" Danny was even more suspicious now.

"Yes. I talked to him."

"You had enough time to talk to him but he still somehow managed to get the upper hand and escape?" Danny exclaimed.

"Yes! Would you drop it now?" Steve snapped. He did not want to have this conversation. It was embarrassing enough that he had let the shooter escape.

"I'm just saying–"

"Danny! Drop it."

"OK! So our kid did his research before he shot the Governor. There's a lot of information about you available to the public. A quick glance at the newspaper could tell you all that."

"He knew about my father and how he died. That information was never made available to the public," Steve sighed.

"So let me summarise everything you just said," Danny began, "Our would-be assassin is a cocky professional teenage hit man who has access to inside information on you. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm fine Danny and I'm not making any of this up."

"I'm not saying that you are. All I'm saying is that you might have hurt your head and are remembering things wrongly."

* * *

"Hey, has Steve called yet?" asked Kono her cousin as she walked into the Five-0 task force main office. The cousins had heard on the news what had happened earlier today. They knew Steve and Danny were both there to provide security. They knew to expect a call from their boss soon.

"Not–" Chin was cut off by the ringing of his phone. Looking down, he saw Steve's name flash on the screen. "Speak of the devil…" He pressed accept call. "Steve, you're on speaker. What's going on?" Chin set his phone down on the table.

"_This morning there was an attempt against the Governor's life_," Steve replied.

"How's Denning doing?" asked Kono.

"_He's alive but other then that, your guess is as good as mine_," replied Steve, "_Danny's at the hospital with him in case our gunman decides to show up. He should be calling soon with an update on the Governor. As a precaution, we haven't released anything to the press about his condition_."

"A surveillance camera was able to record most of the shooting." Chin clicked something on his tablet and a surveillance video of the shooting popped up on the screen.

The cousins watched as the shooter, wearing a baseball cap, made his way towards the Governor. His features were mostly hidden by his ball cap. Suddenly, he pulled out a pistol and fired. As the Governor crumpled to the ground, the crowd began to panic, trying to flee the scene. In the middle of the chaos was the gunman, calmly standing in place before suddenly bolting. The video ended with Steve giving chase to him.

"He's a pretty good shot," Kono confessed, with a slight bit of envy in her voice, "That type of accuracy with a pistol is impressive."

"_I was able to chase down our shooter into an alley but he got away,_" admitted Steve, ignoring Kono's compliment towards the gunman.

"Unfortunately, no cameras in the alley," Chin said.

"What about in the surrounding areas?" asked Kono.

"I'm looking but so far, no hits," he replied, "Either he got seriously lucky or he planned his escape route."

"Guess that rules out your run-of-the-mill angry voter. He's gotta be professional," Kono summarised, "Hired gun?"

"_Looks like it_," Steve replied through the phone.

"I'd bet my money that he isn't from the island," replied Chin, "Most pros aren't from around here."

"_Then he must have flown here. Run facial rec on him through arrival footage at Honolulu Airport._"

"I'll run facial rec on him against both domestic and international arrival footage. But, over 50,000 people pass through Honolulu Airport every day and I'm going to have to construct a facial profile since we weren't able to get a clear shot of the perp's face. So, it's going to take some time," admitted Chin.

"Did you get a good look at him boss?" asked Kono.

"_Yeah_," he responded, "_White male, average height, slim build."_

"That certainly narrows it down," Chin said sarcastically as he typed in the information Steve gave him.

"_He's young,_" Steve added.

"How young?" asked Chin

"_He looked like he was in his late teens_."

Although Steve wasn't in the room, Chin still shot him a glare, silently berating him for not telling him this piece of information earlier. "Well that's definitely going to help. How many professional killers are teenagers?"

"He could just look young for his age," suggested Kono.

"We can assume he's in his late teens or early twenties," Chin said, "Anything else?"

"_I was also able to talk to him."_

"You talked to him?" Kono said, surprised.

"_Yes I talked to him_," he growled. He didn't want to have this conversation again with the cousins.

Both Chin and Kono immediately noticed the change of tone and recognised it as an unspoken threat to not pry for any further details

"Did he have an accent? That could narrow the list down," Chin said, changing the subject.

"_He spoke like the average American."_

"So he's spent time in the US or Canada," Kono summarised.

"_Or he could just be good with accents_."

"Was there anything odd or mechanical about the way he spoke?"

"_No._"

"I'll talk to Kamekona, see if he's heard anything about a hit man on the island," Kono said.

"_Call me if you get anything."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kono parked her car and walked up to Kamekona's shrimp truck. There were a couple groups of beach goers and surfers but for the most part, it seemed like a slow morning. It would no doubt get busier as the day progressed. She soon spot the larger man cleaning one of the empty tables.

"Kamekona!" she called as she walked towards him.

Kamekona looked up and a smile appeared as soon as he saw her. "Hey bruddah!" he greeted, "I'm guessing this isn't a social call."

"I'm sure you've heard the news about the Governor," Kono said solemnly. The two of them walked over to the far table in the corner to have some privacy from Kamekona's customers.

"You betcha. How's he doing? He going to make it?" he asked, concern filled his voice.

"They can't tell. He's in surgery right now."

"I'm guessing you're not here to tell me how the Governor's doing," Kamekona summarised

"No, I'm not." Kono leaned in closer to Kamekona and lowered her voice. "The shooter was a professional. Most likely hired which means he probably isn't local. Have you heard anything about a hit man on the island?"

Kamekona looked around them. Satisfied that no one was watching or listening in on their conversation, he began: "You didn't hear this from me but there's been whispers about a contract killer on the island. Some European guy and apparently, he's one of the best in the business."

"Any names?"

Kamekona shook his head. "Nada. Like I said, it's only been whispers. But if someone's willing to hire that type of quality, it makes sense the target was the Governor."

"What about the guy himself?" Kono asked.

"Sorry, nothing there either brudda. All I know is that he's good and he ain't from 'round here."

"You said European?"

"That's what I heard. Usually pros like that are European. This guy, I'd bet a bucket of garlic shrimp he's European too."

"Thank you Kamekona. Call if you hear anything else."

"Of course. But, before you leave," Kamekona began. He stood up and walked into his shrimp truck. Moments later, he walked out, holding a white plastic bag with what appeared to be takeout. "Here," he said, handing the plastic bag to Kono.

"What is it?" Kono asked.

"Its some garlic shrimp for the Governor. Hopefully, it'll make him feel better."

"Thank you Kamekona." Kono accepted the bag of food. "I'm sure he'll appreciate this."

* * *

Steve drove back to HQ alone and in silence. He couldn't get the kid's voice out of his head.

"_Now tell me something McGarrett, how did it feel to hear your own father die?"_

He wanted nothing more than to sock the kid in the face. Wipe that grin he no doubt had on his face. How did some random kid know about his father's death? _That's because he isn't some random kid, _his inner voice said. It was right though. He had to be a professional. Or, at least that was the excuse he came up with to explain how he had let the shooter go. Steve mentally smacked himself for letting his guard down at the shooter's youth. He had the kid cornered but had let him escape.

Yet, he couldn't help but wonder about him. How did someone that young end up in a life like that? Steve had dealt with his fair share of mercenaries and guns for hire in his time as a Navy SEAL. Usually, younger folks were nervous, skittish. Never had he dealt with someone that young who was that confident.

Steve's phone began to ring as he pulled into the 'Iolani Palace parking lot. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw Danny's number flash across the screen. "Danny," he answered as he got out of his truck, "How's Denning?"

"_The bullet tore through Denning's right lung. He's in surgery right now but they said that his chances aren't looking too good." _Steve could hear the strain in his partner's voice. "_We have two uniforms outside the Governor's door at all times."_

"Once you're finished at the hospital, come back to HQ."

"_Sounds good. I'll see you in fifteen."_

Steve pocketed his phone and walked up to the Five-0 task force offices. He saw Chin hunched over the touchscreen table with screencaptures from the surveillance video displayed on the television screen in front of them.

"Chin, got anything?" he asked.

Chin turned around and faced Steve. "We weren't able to get a clear shot of our perp's face but I've been using the partial shots to reconstruct his facial profile." He turned back around and clicked on something on the touch screen. A black and white picture came up. "Meet our mystery man."

Steve walked closer to the screen and stared intensely at the picture. He recognised him instantly. The black and white contrast of the photo made him appear more intense and the coldness in his eyes was absent. But, it was their guy nonetheless.

"How'd I do?"

Chin's question snapped Steve back into reality. "That's him. That's our guy." He turned around and faced Chin. "I want this photo circulated to HPD, TSA, FBI, Interpol, everyone. Someone's bound to know who he is."

"You got it."

"_That our perp?" _said a third voice.

Steve and Chin turned around and saw Danny walk in.

Before Steve could respond, his phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he saw it was Kono. He put the phone on the table and put it on speaker. "Kono, I'm here with Chin and Danny. What did Kamekona tell you?"

"_He says there's been whispers about a contract killer on the island. He's European and one of the best out there. Probably safe to assume that our guy is foreign."_

"Anything else?"

"_That's it." _

"Thanks Kono." Steve hung up and picked up his phone from the table.

"So, what are we looking at?" asked Danny.

"A professional teenage hit man from Europe who somehow knows personal details about me," Steve responded, "Were you able to trace his path from the alleyway?" he asked Chin.

Chin shook his head. "No cameras in the alley."

"What about in the surrounding areas?" asked Danny.

"I'm looking but so far, no hits. Whoever he is, he's good."

"So we've got nothing," Steve paused. His anger boiled as he remembered the cockiness of the kid. "Who the fuck is this kid?" he yelled in anger.

At that moment, the facial profile on the computer flashed red, with the word 'MATCHED' below it. "Hey I got a hit," Chin said. He pulled up footage of a man passing through US customs. "Meet Tyler Brown. He arrived in Hawaii three days ago on a flight from Vancouver."

"Canadian?" questioned Danny.

"No, he was travelling on an American passport," Chin said, pulling up Brown's passport identification page.

Steve found himself once again staring into the face of their shooter. But, this time, he knew his name. He looked older in this photo. Looking at the date of birth he saw that he was 19 years old; older than what he originally thought. His eyes also weren't as cold and calculated. There was something more human about him. Well, as human as a professional gun for hire could be.

"Danny, notify Honolulu airport security to be on the lookout for Brown. Put him on the no fly list. I don't want him leaving this island" Steve said. He turned around to Chin. "Get as much information as you can on Brown. I want to know everything."

* * *

He was packing his bags when he heard his phone ring. Forgetting where he had left it, he followed his ringtone to find his phone next to the bathroom sink. He looked down and saw the word 'BLOCKED CALLER'.

He knew who it was. He had seen the news. He knew what this was about. Sighing, he picked up.

"_He's alive," _the man on the other side barked.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "The police haven't issued an official statement about his condition. That means, they don't know if he'll make it or not," he spoke into the phone.

"_The Governor is alive. I paid you to kill him."_

"He's not going to make it. Just let it run its course."

"_No. You will go to the hospital and kill him yourself."_

The caller hung up before he could protest anymore. Walking back to his duffle bag, he began to unpack. He let out a small sigh realising he wasn't just yet finished with this contract.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

**A/N: **I don't really like this chapter. I tried re-writing it twice but just couldn't get it the way I wanted.

* * *

"Wait…" Chin said, "Steve, Danny. Come over here and take a look at this."

Steve and Danny both quickly walked over to the touch screen table. Chin was still hunched over it, reading something on his tablet. "I think I just found something…" Chin paused. Steve and Danny quickly made eye contact. They could tell Chin was on the trail of something.

"Alright, meet Tyler Brown. Born January 7, 1991 in Newark." Chin pulled up Brown's birth certificate.

"New Jersey," Danny said, "Can't say I'm familiar with the name."

"That's because he died on March 15, 1991 along with his parents and older sister. Also, in Newark," Chin finished.

"He stole his identity," Steve quickly summarised.

"I found a newspaper article about Brown's death but it looks like his family didn't file a death certificate." Chin pulled up an old black and white newspaper article with the headline 'CAR CRASH KILLS YOUNG FAMILY'. Below it, was a picture of a mangled vehicle. "That allowed our shooter to ghost Brown's identity."

"So, we're back where we started. We have no idea who he is," Steve said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Not quite." Chin paused. "I couldn't find any other records of a Tyler Brown with that date of birth. So, I did a little more digging in suspected contract killings and cross-referenced that with witness reports of a teenage male present in the area around the time of death and I found this little tidbit about a 2009 investigation of the murder of Richard Rossi in LA." Chin brought up the police file onto the screen.

"At least three witnesses described a white male in his late teens carrying a musical instrument case (one witness reports guitar) walking away from the suspected sniper location around the time of the shooting. One witness reports selling the man a candy bar in a convenience store two blocks away from the sniper location, approximately an hour before the shooting. She reports hearing a phone conversation where the caller identified the man as 'Tyler'. Guitar Man, as he has been nicknamed, is a person of interest as he may have valuable information to the case. However, he has never been identified," Chin read out.

"How much you wanna bet that Guitar Man was the shooter and that our Tyler Brown was Guitar Man?" Danny asked, rhetorically.

"There were a number of buskers in the area so police dismissed Guitar Man as a suspect," Chin clarified, "He's just a person of interest."

"What did the investigator's conclude?" asked Steve.

"They believed it was a professional hit. The vic was thought to be the head of a local drug cartel that was trying to push out the Mexican drug cartel. They were never able to ID the shooter though."

"The Mexican cartel didn't take to kindly to them so they hired a professional gun to get rid of their rival," Danny said.

The three of them heard the HQ door opening and paused. Turning around, they saw Kono walk in. "Hey guys, anything new?" she asked.

Before anyone could answer, Steve's phone started to ring. He picked up. "McGarrett. Got it. I'm on my way." He pocketed his phone again. "That was the hospital. Denning is out of surgery. He's still in critical condition but he's conscious and is requesting to speak to me. Chin, continue looking for other professional hits with reports of a teenager. Danny, look at all credible death threats made against the Governor. Ignore the crazies and focus on those with a means to hire a pro. Kono, I'll fill you in on the way to the hospital."

As Steve walked out the HQ doors, he noticed Kono was carrying a plastic shopping bag. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to it.

"Garlic shrimp for the Governor," she responded.

* * *

He spent the better part of the last hour perfecting his plan. He had been watching the news and knew Governor Denning was at Queen's Medical Center. He had hit him in the torso. If he wasn't dead already, he had to be in intensive care. It wouldn't be that hard to find him.

The problem was, he didn't know the layout of Queen's. He decided that today, he would recce the hospital. He would learn the layout, the locations of the security cameras and exits. Most importantly, if the police had put any protection detail on the injured man. Then, he could begin formulating his actual plan. He didn't care if his employer would be upset at the day-long delay. He wasn't risking going in there completely blind. He got paid for the effectiveness of his results. Failed contracts meant no money, a damaged reputation, and potentially jail time. No, he wasn't risking that.

He figured he could walk in there dressed in his normal civilian attire. He would look no different than an average islander, coming to visit an injured family member. He just hoped they didn't block off the entire intensive care area. That would complicate things.

To be on the safe side, he changed his outfit. Police no doubt had distributed a description of his characteristics and clothing. He cursed at himself when he remembered that he had dropped his baseball cap when escaping McGarrett earlier in the morning. He would have to purchase another one. The last thing he needed was his face to be picked up on CCTV.

For now, he decided to improvise. He dug through his duffle bag until he found a pair of sunglasses. Walking to the washroom, he reflected on his appearance. The sunglasses weren't as good as hiding his facial features. And, they would attract attention when he was inside.

Sighing, he decided he would have to stop at the sporting goods store he had spotted three blocks down to buy a new baseball cap.

* * *

"Governor." That's all Steve could say when he entered Denning's hospital room. He was hooked up to multiple machines that were emitting their own distinct beeping noise. Yet, there he was, conscious and alive.

"Commander McGarrett…Officer Kalakaua," he croaked, "Thank you...for coming."

"What did you want to talk to us about?" asked Steve.

Denning closed his eyes and for a second, Steve thought the worst. But, the constant beeping of the medical machine reassured him. "Find...the man who...did this…" Denning said.

"Sir, you have my promise that I will find the son of a bitch who did this and personally put him behind bars," Steve said. He was a man of his word. He would bring this kid in. It was only a matter of when.

"That's all I ask…" Denning paused, his nose wrinkling, "Is that garlic shrimp?"

"Yes sir. Compliments of Kamekona's shrimp truck. Kamekona insisted I give it to you," Kono responded, holding up the bag.

Denning smiled. "Thank you...just leave it...on that table." He pointed weekly to the table near the window. Kono walked over and placed the shrimp on it.

"Let me know...if updates."

"Will do," Steve responded. The two then left the room in silence, passing by the two HPD officers at the door. Turning a corner, Steve excused himself as he nearly bumped into a man wearing a baseball cap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I might have something," said Danny, as he strolled out of his office. "Just got off the phone with Interpol. They wouldn't say much but they did give me a name. One Rory Campbell."

Chin immediately began typing in the name. "Bingo." Chin suddenly paused. "His file is locked. I can't access it."

"What do you mean his file is locked?" Danny asked, walking towards Chin.

Chin brought up the file on the screen. All it said was Rory Campbell. No other information was given. The words 'LOCKED: ACCESS DENIED' was imposed over it. "What did Interpol say?" Chin asked.

Danny sighed. "That was a story in itself. After being transferred to half a dozen agents, I finally got a hold of an agent who works contract killings. I brought up the fact that our killer is young and might be European. He then proceeded to tell me the name Rory Campbell then hung up."

"Not very hospitable if you ask me."

"You'd think that after spending an hour talking to half of Interpol, he would at least have the courtesy to say goodbye," Danny said in annoyance.

"Did you two find anything?" asked McGarrett, as he and Kono walked into the HQ.

Danny pointed to the screen. "Yes but…"

* * *

"I want to know everything Interpol has on Rory Campbell," Steve barked into the phone. He was seated in his office by himself. On the other end was Martin Miller of Interpol. Steve had met Miller during his time in Naval Intelligence after Miller, at the time an Interpol liaison with the US Navy, rear-ended him on his way home from work. Despite the damage done to Steve's truck, the two quickly hit it off. After working together for a couple years, Miller was reassigned to Interpol's UK office to focus on transnational contract killings. If their perp was who they thought he was, Miller would have likely crossed paths with him or at least knew of him.

"You're a resourceful man McGarrett; why not do it yourself?" Miller teased. Steve could see the grin on his face.

"Because I tried doing it myself only to be locked out of his file," he paused, "We have reason to believe Campbell was behind the assassination attempt on the Governor of Hawaii this morning. Once he discovers that the Governor survived, it'll only be a matter of time before he comes back to finish the job. So I ask you again, who is Rory Campbell?"

Steve heard Miller sigh on the other side as he realised the seriousness of the situation. "Steve, one of these days you're going to give me an aneurysm. Before I answer that question, I want to know, how did you link Campbell to the attempt?"

"We compiled a facial profile of our shooter based on the security footage. We ran it through the domestic and international arrival footage at Honolulu Airport and got a match with a Tyler Brown who we linked to a 2009 murder of a LA drug cartel leader. When one of my detectives spoke with Interpol 20 minutes ago, they told him 'Rory Campbell', then hung-up. We know our shooter is professional and young. If Interpol gave us a name without asking for further details, I assume Rory Campbell is the only teenage hitman out there," Steve explained.

"You got a name and a facial profile?" Miller asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I'm sending it over right now." Steve quickly attached the facial composition that Chin made, as well as a copy of Tyler Brown's passport, and the witness report describing Guitar Man from the 2009 murder case. He hit send. "Emailed it."

Miller was silent on the other end; no doubt looking over the files. "Martin?" Steve asked after a minute of silence, making sure the other man was still on the phone.

"Yes, I'm still here. Looking over the files right now." Steve heard Miller pause. "Steve, this is incredible. Maybe police work does suit you better." Miller chuckled through the phone. "OK now to return the favour. Rory Campbell. He's from Northern Ireland. Late teens, 16 to 18 years old. He's an assassin for hire and has been on Interpol's radar for a couple years now. We've linked him to over 20 deaths across Europe. We thought he operated exclusively in Europe but with the information you sent me, it looks like he's expanded. His victims range from politicians to mobsters. He's got a flawless record. If you want someone dead, Rory's the guy you turn to."

"Sounds like you envy him."

"After two years of investigating him with no solid leads, let's just say, I've learnt to respect his abilities. There's no denying that he's talented. It's just a shame he's not on our side," he confessed.

"What makes him so good?" asked Steve.

"His ability to blend in and disappear. We're unsure exactly what he looks like until now. The kid's a master at hiding his face. I'm honestly surprised you were able to compile a clear enough facial profile of him to run facial rec with. He's also fluent in English, French, German, and Russian and can put on any accent in any one of those languages at a snap of the fingers. He's got at least six different passports from six different countries, all in different names. This is the first time we even have a solid alias to kid's a ghost. Hell, we don't even know if his real name is Rory Campbell."

"Where'd he learn all of this at such a young age?" Steve asked. He had been wondering about where he was trained. "I've worked with government operatives like that in the past but it took them years of intense, highly specialized training to get them there."

"We have no idea. We believe he may have connections to the Real Irish Republican Army or some other dissident Irish republican paramilitary group but there's no way that's where he was trained. Such groups don't have the resources to train someone to such a high level. Like you said, the way he operates suggests he's had government training, but we've not been able to find any evidence to support this theory. Plus, no government in the West would ever try training a 13 year old kid into an assassin."

"Why is his file locked?" Steve asked.

"His age. Since he's a minor, Interpol decided to implement a partial publication ban on his name. That's why we never issued a red notice on him."

Steve felt a small bit of anger at the explanation. Locking his file due to his age meant that police forces wouldn't be able to access vital information about Rory. It put the public in danger. He closed his eyes. All of this could have been avoided if Interpol was transparent and had just issued a red notice. But, they didn't. Steve sighed. "I need you to do me one more favour. Unlock his file for us."

"McGarrett, I can't do that for you."

"Miller, you just told me we're up against one of the most deadly assassins for hire. We need all the intel we can get."

Steve heard Miller let out another sigh on the other side of the phone. "I'm probably going to get fired for this but I'll unlock Rory's file for you. But, I want a copy of your investigation when you're finished."

"Thanks Miller. Will do. Next time you come and visit the Island, we can go visit Rory at Halawa Correctional Facility. I'll make sure to buy you a steak dinner as well."

"Before you go, remember this; Rory's might only a kid but don't let his age deceive you. He's a cold-blooded killer. He's not scared to fake some waterworks then stab you in the back. He once killed a politician who was heavily involved in charity work by pretending to be homeless. He made him buy him a meal then stabbed him in the bathroom. Do not underestimate him."

"Don't worry about me Mart. I already let him get away once. I won't fall for his tricks again." With that, Steve hung up the phone. His email inbox dinged and he saw that Miller had sent him the unlocked file. He quickly plugged in a USB drive and dragged the file over. He pocketed the stick and left his office.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: **I don't think it was ever mentioned on the show if Victor Hesse was a Catholic or Protestant. I got tired of the whole "Ex-IRA terrorist" archetype so I made the Hesses loyalists. I do not endorse either loyalists or republicans.

* * *

"Consider the file unlocked," Steve said. He threw a USB stick with the unlocked file that Miller had sent him to Chin who quickly plugged it into his tablet.

"Holy shit," said Chin as he opened up the file. "There's a lot to unpack here. It'll take me at least two hours to look through it all."

"Give me the spark notes." By then, both Danny and Kono had both made their way to the touch screen table as well.

Chin clicked on the tab called biography. "OK, what do we have here?" he trailed off, as he read over the file, "Rory Campbell. Born in Northern Ireland. Suspected links to Irish Republican dissident paramilitaries. Used to operate domestically before expanding to continental Europe."

Chin looked up to Steve. "Here's how he knew about your father. He knew the Hesse brothers. Back when Campbell only operated domestically, he and the Hesses were in frequent contact. It says here that the Police Service of Northern Ireland believed that they were working together but they couldn't find any evidence to back it up. There is also the fact that the Hesses are Protestant and Rory is suspected to be Catholic, which makes the working together theory less likely. "

"Hesse is an arms dealer who moonlights as a gun for hire. He doesn't care about religion or political differences. If they were in frequent contact, they without a doubt worked together," Steve paused, "Hesse could have easily told him about what happened," Steve said, anger clearly in his voice.

"What's his usual MO?" asked Danny.

"He doesn't have one," Chin responded. Seeing the confused look on his colleagues, he continued: "He's used car bombs, sniper rifles, hit and runs. He once stabbed a charitable politician–"

"–in the bathroom of a restaurant after he offered to buy him a meal," Steve said, cutting off Chin. "My connection in Interpol warned me about him," Steve explained.

"You gotta give this kid creativity points," Kono responded.

"Chin, keep looking through Interpol's file and see if you can find any contacts or links he could have to Hawaii," Steve said. Chin nodded at Steve's statement.

He then turned to Kono. "Kono, continue investigating the Tyler Brown angle. See if you can find hotel reservations, car rentals, or anything."

"Got it boss."

"Danny, we'll continue looking through threats against the Governor."

* * *

Rory was crouched over the blueprint of the hospital he had found online. The recce of the hospital revealed two HPD officers guarding the Governor's room. He watched as the officers examined the IDs of everyone who had gone in. That was it for security. With the Governor's room on the fifth floor, he knew entering from the window was not feasible. The front door was his best shot. But, it was also guarded.

"I have two options," he said to himself, "Kill the two cops or sneak in with a fake ID."

He sighed as he felt the signs that a migraine was incoming. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to get off this island; wanted to go home. He suddenly scoffed. He had no home. He was constantly moving from one location to another. He had to keep moving otherwise they'd find him. He'd be arrested and thrown in prison for the rest of his life. There was no "home" for him to return to.

He needed a drink. He grabbed a beer from the fridge. He didn't bother looking at the label. All he needed was a drink. He quickly downed it.

_Just to take the edge off, _he thought to himself.

* * *

Steve felt his body aching as he got out of his truck. Today was a physically draining day. He wanted nothing more than to pass out on his bed. He unlocked the front door, throwing his keys on the kitchen table. He suddenly froze when he passed by his liquor cabinet in his kitchen. The cabinet door was ajar and his once organised liquor collection was a mess. Bottles were askew as if someone had rummaged through it.

His sixth sense was tingling. Suddenly, he heard a noise. A faint snoring coming from his living room. Someone was in his house. He pulled out his sidearm and began inching towards his living room.

He was shocked when he found Rory Campbell's sleeping figure laying on his couch. He was facing Steve's direction. He saw something clutched in his hands, Leaning in, Steve recognised it as his formerly half-finished bottle of scotch. Instincts kicking in, he pointed his sidearm at Rory's still figure. "Hands where I can see them!" he yelled.

Steve saw Rory's eyes flicker open, but he didn't move. The coldness that was in his eyes this morning in the alley was absent. There was a sense of innocence to them that Steve rarely saw in killers before. "I was wonderin' when you'd come home," he mumbled. Steve barely heard him.

"I'm not asking again! Hands now!" Steve's brain was racing. Why was Rory here? On his couch? Drinking his scotch? It didn't make sense. Steve was a SEAL. He prided himself on his logic and common sense. Yet, he couldn't find the logic in this situation. Was he here to kill him? No, why would he break into his liquor cabinet if he wanted to kill him? Was this an act?

"Sorry 'bout ye scotch," Rory mumbled, ignoring Steve's commands and snapping Steve's attention back to the current situation. Rory dropped the empty bottle of scotch onto the ground. It landed with a _thud_ but didn't break. "I just needed somethin' strong."

Steve sighed, realising Rory was either a great actor or really was too drunk to comprehend the situation he was in. He decided to take the risk and holstered his weapon. He sat down on the chair across from Rory. "How old are you?" asked Steve precariously. He may as well learn more about him.

Rory turned around to face Steve. "Wha' does it matter to ya? Me age don't change anythin'."

For the first time, Steve noticed Rory's thick Irish accent. _Northern Ireland, _he remembered seeing on his file. It was a stark contrast from the first conversation he had with him, where he had noted his complete lack of an accent. Steve took a deep breath in, watching as a small droplet of scotch fell onto the floor. He was trying his hardest to understand the situation. Combined with his dishevelled hair, his accent made him seem even younger. Steve remembered what Miller had told him, remembered chasing him down into the hallway, remembered the coldness in his voice, yet, at this moment, he looked like a broken teenager who drank himself into a stupor to escape his demons. Steve understood; after his mother died and his father sent him to live on the mainland, he too relied on alcohol to cope.

"Yes, it does. You're just a boy. You have your whole life in front of you. Why are you doing this?"

Rory sat up, suddenly sober to his surroundings. "Because _this _is me feckin' life." Coldness laced his voice. "This was what I was raised to do."

Suddenly, Steve knew why Rory was sitting in front of him. It wasn't that he looked like a broken teenager, he was a broken teenager. _He came here because he needs help. He wants to get out. _Steve gulped. He was always bad with kids and he silently cursed Rory for choosing him out of all people. But, for whatever reason, Rory chose him. He remembered how lost and alone he was when he first went to the mainland. He knew what Rory was capable of, what he had done to people, the families he had shattered, but at this moment, he couldn't help but empathise with him.

He took a breath in. He had an idea. "Let me help you. I can get you out of this life, help you start over."

Rory let out a humourless chuckle. "Did it ever occur to ya that maybe 'dis is the life I want to lead?"

"Rory…" Steve began.

"So you know my name now, eh? It was a mistake coming to ya. Ye will never feckin' understand." Rory attempted to stand up but quickly fell back over on the couch in his drunken state.

Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He felt a migraine coming. "You know that I'm going to have to turn you in right?"

"Go ahead…" Rory mumbled. His eyes fluttered for a moment before he closed them.

"Rory?" Steve asked. But, he was met with gentle snoring.

"Great," Steve said aloud. The Governor, who he had sworn to protect, was in the hospital. And, here he was with the kid who had put the Governor there, passed out drunk on his couch. He made a mental note to call the alarm company tomorrow to re-enable the system because he knew that Rory had disabled it.

Steve knew if he brought him in, he'd be facing life in prison with no chance of parole. Even though he was a minor, no doubt the State would choose to prosecute him as an adult. And, that meant life in prison. Life in Halawa Correctional. He'd have no chance to start over. His life would be over before it began.

But, Steve knew people. He knew people that could excuse Rory's past and instead, see his talents as an operative. He remembered Martin's words: "_It's just a shame he's not on our side."_

What if he could get him on our side?

Instead of calling Danny or HPD to help bring Rory in, Steve decided to leave him be for the night. If he was still here tomorrow morning, he would bring him in. But, he secretly hoped that Rory would be gone. On the coffee table, Steve left one of his business cards with his personal cell phone number written on the back. He had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't see Rory tomorrow morning but would instead get a phone call.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Steve woke up an hour before his alarm went off. He closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep when he remembered the events of last night. Suddenly, he was wide awake. He felt his adrenaline pumping as he frantically put on yesterday's old clothes. He ran downstairs to his living room, only to find the couch empty. Rory wasn't there. He wasn't surprised. He looked over to the coffee table and noticed his business card was missing. He smiled.

It was an hour later during breakfast when his phone went off. He checked it and noticed a new message from an unsaved number.

He opened it and saw a single line of text: _Were you serious about your offer last night?_

It was Rory. He immediately put down his scrambled eggs and typed: _Yes, I know people who are looking for operatives with your skill set._

A few moments later, he got a response: _What about everything that's already happened? _

Steve knew Rory was talking about his past killings. He typed: _They'll set you up with a whole new identity. You can forget about Rory Campbell and everything he's done._

He received a response immediately: _Let me think about it _

* * *

Steve arrived at 'Iolani Palace early at 8 am. He saw Danny's Camero parked in the lot but didn't see Kono's or Chin's vehicles. He walked up the steps and into HQ. "Morning Danno," he said, walking past Danny's office.

"Good morning to you Steven," Danny replied. He was seated behind his desk, comparing something on the computer screen with a thick manilla folder he had on his lap.

Steve stopped in Danny's doorway. He took a deep breath in. He had to tell Danny what had happened the night before. He knew his partner would be less than pleased about the situation. He mentally prepared himself for the outburst that would inevitably occur. "He contacted me," he said.

"Who contacted you?" Danny looked up at Steve from behind his desk, slightly confused.

"Rory."

"He contacted you? When? How? What did he say?" Danny was suddenly up on his feet, making his way to Steve who was at his doorway.

"I found him passed out on my couch last night. He's thinking of getting out," Steve explained.

"Where is he now?" Steve could hear the suspicion in his partner's voice.

"I don't know. I gave him my phone number and told him I can help him. He was gone when I woke up," he confessed.

"What the hell are you saying?" Danny had raised voice. "You let him go again? How could you let him go? For the second time!"

"Danny–"

"Are you crazy?" he asked, stabbing his finger into Steve's chest. "Like, are you actually crazy? He _literally _shows up in your house and you decide that instead of...I don't know...arresting him, you wish him good night and give him your phone number?" He raised his hands in defeat. "Is something physically wrong with you?" Danny was screaming now.

"Danny–"

"You took an oath to protect this pineapple-infested hellhole so you somehow decide it's a good idea to let the guy who shot the Governor, tried killing the Governor, go for some delusioned reason?" Danny's arms were waving widely now.

"Listen to me!" Steve yelled, shutting Danny up. "If I brought him in, he'd be arrested and spend the rest of his life in prison."

"Which is exactly what should happen to anyone who decides to make a living killing people!" countered Danny, raising his voice again.

"Danny, you don't understand. He's really good. I don't want him rotting in prison for the rest of his life. I want him to continue using his skills but for us," Steve tried to explain to his partner.

"You want to recruit him into your super secret Black Ops Army gang?"

"I was in the Navy, Danno," Steve said, purposefully using his partner's nickname to annoy him. "And, yes I do."

"How can you be sure he'll say yes?"

"I found the kid passed out drunk on my living room couch. He knows I can help him. He _wants _me to help him. Otherwise, do you really think he would have shown up?"

"You're crazy you know that?" Danny replied, ignoring what Steve had just said.

"For now, we need to focus on finding the man who hired Rory to kill Denning. Once we arrest him, Rory won't have any need to finish the contract."

Danny sighed. He walked back over to his desk and sat down behind his computer. "OK, I don't understand your logic but I'll support you and not call IA because that's what partners do." Danny threw the thick file he had been reading onto his desk. "Now, help me look through these threats."

* * *

Rory felt his head pounding. He cursed at his decision to drink McGarrett's bottle of scotch. He went to the washroom and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from his ablutions kit. He washed down two pills with his water bottle.

He wasn't sure why he went to McGarrett's place last night. After a couple drinks, he hadn't been thinking straight. He was glad he did though. He clutched his disposable phone and McGarrett's Five-0 business card. He looked at the short four text exchange with McGarrett early that day.

_I know people who are looking for operatives with your skill set._

He would never admit it but he wanted out. He wanted out the moment he met Michael. But, he quickly found out he had a natural talent at killing then disappearing. It was perfect in his line of work. Killing was the only thing he knew how to do. He thought he was stuck in this life, that killing was his only choice. Then, McGarrett came and offered him another option.

Before he could think about leaving, he still had this contract to finish. He could worry about all that stuff later. For now, the Governor was alive.

_McGarrett works for the Governor though, _he thought to himself. No, he couldn't let himself fall into that. He was hired to kill the Governor. It would be his last contract.

* * *

Rory tugged at the scrubs he had bought from Walmart earlier that day. He was at Queen's Medical Center but he needed an ID card. He saw a male nurse walking towards him. Feigning a fall, he tripped and fell into the nurse. Before he could react, he snagged his ID card clipped onto his shirt. He quickly apologised, assuring the man he was fine and walked away.

Now, he had an ID and all he had to do was alter the picture. He walked into the nearest washroom, making sure to lock the door behind him. He took out a clear film with a picture of his face on it. He peeled off the back and carefully placed the sticker over the existing ID. He took his time, smoothing out the air bubbles to make the ID look real. Looking over his work, he was satisfied. It would hold up to the task.

He was about to leave the washroom when suddenly he heard McGarrett's voice in his head.

"_Why are you doing this?"_

He reached into his pocket and took out McGarrett's business card. Clutching it in his hand, he pulled out his cell phone and dialled his number but didn't hit call.

"Why am I doing this?" he asked himself.

For the first time in years, he began questioning what he was doing. A person would give him a name, he'd kill the target and get paid. He learnt long ago not to question his employer's motive. Getting tangled up in that was always bad.

He wondered what the Governor had done to piss off his employer enough for him to hire him. This time, he wasn't some corrupt politician or some drug kingpin who would be better off dead. From what he had seen, the Governor was a well-liked political figure.

"_McGarrett."_

The voice snapped him back to reality. Looking down, he realised he had accidentally hit call. _Damnit. _He let in a sharp breath and immediately hung up.

What the hell was he doing? No emotion. No attachments.

"One more contract," he said to himself.

Taking a deep breath in, he left the washroom and began walking towards the Governor's room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Steve's phone rang. He frowned when he saw it said 'BLOCKED CALLER'.

"McGarrett," he said into his phone. But, there was no response. He thought he heard someone breathing on the other end but before he could say anything, they hung up.

"Who was it?" asked Danny

"I don't know. It was a hang up," Steve paused. His mind was racing, trying to think of who the caller could be. Suddenly, it clicked, "Rory!"

"What about him?"

"Governor Denning. The hospital. He's in danger." Steve couldn't explain how he made that connection. Somehow, he just knew.

"How did you figure out all of that from a hang up call?"

"Come on, I'm driving," Steve said, ignoring his partner.

Steve drove to Queen's Medical Center in Danny's Camaro in record time. Leaving the police lights flashing, he parked the car outside the front steps of the entrance. He heard someone yelling from behind that he couldn't park there but he ignored them.

He ran through the front doors, nearly running over a young woman with an arm cast. Excusing himself, he ran past the information booth and straight to the staircase. He looked over his shoulder and saw Danny close behind him.

Sprinting up the five flights of stairs, he ran down the familiar hallway of intensive care. He took the corner before the Governor's room but stopped dead in his tracks. He saw a man dressed in scrubs walk out of Denning's hospital room, past the two HPD officers guarding the door. His blood went cold. He recognised the man's silhouette. He had seen the same silhouette in the alleyway yesterday morning. He had seen the silhouette lying on his couch last night.

"Rory!" Steve shouted. The man in the scrubs stopped and turned around. He recognised him instantly. It was Rory. He made eye contact with Steve and he swore he saw him smirk. "Rory," Steve said his name again. Rory turned around, ignoring Steve, before he took off running.

"Not again," Steve muttered, following after Rory. He suddenly had a flash a deja vu to yesterday morning when he had been chasing after the shooter in the park. He was chasing the shooter again but this time, he knew who he was chasing.

Steve saw Rory take a right. He recognised it as the path he had taken from the stairway. Steve slammed through the stairway door only to see Rory jump over the railing and down a flight of stairs. "Fuck," he muttered, following suit. He landed hard, his knees buckling but holding up just enough for him to remain on his feet. Looking up, he saw Rory sprinting down the remaining stairs.

He chased him down to the ground floor. Stepping out the stairway door, his eyes darted around the lobby looking for Rory. He couldn't have gotten far.

"Steve!"

Steve turned around and saw Danny step out the staircase. "I lost him again," Steve responded, admitting defeat. Again, Rory managed to give him the slip.

"Now how do you explain _this_?" Danny asked, "He seems pretty active for a guy that wants to _get out._" Danny emphasised the last two words.

Steve ignored his partner's comments. Right now, all he cared about was the Governor's safety. He cursed himself for underestimating Rory once again. He should have arrested the kid last night. He didn't and now, the Governor was probably bleeding out in his room.

He ran up to the fifth floor with Danny closely behind him. Sprinting down the hall, he finally reached Denning's hospital room.

"Governor!" Steve yelled, bursting into the hospital room. He wasn't sure what to expect but it definitely wasn't a very alive-looking Denning lying in bed chatting with one of the HPD officers assigned on guard duty.

"McGarrett? Williams?" Denning questioned, looking confused at their urgency, "What are you doing here?"

"Governor, you're alive?" Steve said, still in shock.

"Yes, I am," Denning responded to Steve's rhetorical question.

"I don't understand," Danny began, turning to face Steve. "Why would he go through all the effort of sneaking in then?"

"What are you talking about?" Denning asked, a mix of confusion and frustration in his voice.

Steve signalled to the HPD officer. "Go find a doctor to look over the Governor, make sure he's good." The HPD officer nodded and left the room. Steve turned to face Denning. "Our shooter, Rory, we saw him leaving your room dressed in scrubs 10 minutes ago."

"You mean Lucas? He took my hourly vitals. We chatted about our favourite hiking trails around the big island."

"Is this the man that took your vitals?" Steve asked. He pulled out his phone and showed Denning Rory's passport photo.

Denning nodded. "Yes, that's him."

Steve and Danny looked at each other, both confused about the situation. "Sir, that's Rory Campbell. He's the primary suspect in our investigation. He's a contract killer wanted by Interpol. He was hired to kill you," Danny said.

Denning's face paled hearing the new information.

"Governor, tell us exactly what happened," Steve said.

"Lucas...I mean Rory, came in and told me he was here to check my vitals. He walked over there and recorded the numbers on this machine." Denning pointed to the medical machine to the left of him.

"Did he touch anything?" Steve eyed the IV bag. "Give you anything?"

Denning shook his head. "No, he didn't. After he finished with my vitals, he sat on that chair and we chatted for maybe 15 minutes."

"About what?"

"Just small talk. Local hiking trails mainly. He seemed like a good person," he paused, "I would've had no idea that he was...the shooter...

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a fourth voice said.

Steve turned around and saw it was the doctor. "Check him over; make sure he's OK." He turned back to face Denning. "Sir, if you remember anything else that could be important–"

"–I'll make sure to tell you," he finished.

The doctor ushered the two men out of the room. Once they were out of earshot, Danny spoke up: "This doesn't make sense. He went through all that effort just to have a 15 minute chat with Denning. Why? He had the perfect opportunity to kill him."

"I don't know Danny. I don't know. The hang up call and now this. It doesn't make sense to me either." Steve pulled out his phone, dialling a familiar number.

"Who are you calling?" Danny asked.

"HQ. Rory texted me earlier today so I have a number. Hopefully, Chin or Kono are in and can run a search on the number," Steve explained.

"_Five-0,"_ said a female voice. Steve recognised it as Kono and immediately put the call on speaker.

"Kono, you're on speaker with me and Danny. I need you to run a number."

"_Yeah, sure thing boss. What's this about?" _

"Rory was here at the hospital. He gave us the slip again."

"_Governor–"_

"He's fine," Danny said, anticipating the question about the Governor's wellbeing. "Surprisingly, Rory had a change of heart and didn't do anything to him."

They heard Kono let out a sigh of relief. "_Let me grab a piece of paper...OK go ahead with the number."_

Steve read off the number that Rory had texted him from.

"_Looks like its a disposable phone. Last active at Queen's Medical Centre 30 minutes ago. Its turned off now. I'll let you know when it's back on."_

"Thanks Kono." Steve hung up. "Come on, let's get back to headquarters," he said to Danny

"Let me guess, you're driving?"

Steve smiled and nodded.

* * *

Rory let himself sink into his bed. For the second day in a row, he spent his morning running from McGarrett. He took out his phone and dialled a number he hated calling. He picked up after three rings.

"I'm cancelling the contract," he said, coldness lacing his voice

"_What do you mean you're cancelling the contract?" _The man on the other end was furious.

"I was at the hospital today. He's too well-guarded," Rory lied. He could have killed him today. But, he didn't.

"_That's it? 'He's too well-guarded'?"_

"I put him in the hospital. Find someone else to finish the job." He hung-up before his former employer could say another word.

He looked over at his packed bags. He was done.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Steve and Danny were halfway to HQ when Steve's phone went off. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was Kono. He hit accept, putting the call on speaker.

"Kono, what do you have?"

"_Boss, the number you had me run, it's active again. 875 Townsend Road, Unit 3. I'm sending you the address right now."_

Steve saw a text message from Kono with the address. Turning on the police lights, he immediately took a U-turn, skidding through two lanes of traffic.

"Whoa!" Danny yelled in protest, clutching the car ceiling handle.

Steve cursed silently. The address was in the opposite direction of HQ from the hospital. He pushed the accelerator a little harder.

"Who's he calling?" Steve asked.

"_It's a local landline. Registered to Diamond Head Development."_

Steve recognised the business name. "They're a resort development company."

"Hold up. Diamond Head Development?" asked Danny.

"_Yeah Diamond Head Development," _Kono confirmed on the other end.

"Weren't they trying to get approval to build a condo-resort thingy on the North Shore?" Danny asked, "I swear I saw them in the news recently."

They could hear Kono typing on the other side. "_Danny's right. They presented a concept for a year-long family vacation resort on the North Shore. Projected income was in the tens of millions. They were trying to get approval to start construction. Everything was moving smoothly until two weeks ago when Governor Denning personally rejected the proposal for the damage it would do to the surrounding environment."_

"Eliminate the current Governor, reapply, and get approved," Danny said.

"And there's their motive," Steve responded, "Kono, take Chin and HPD and go to Diamond Head Development headquarters. Whoever made that call was the one who hired Rory."

"_Got it boss," _Kono responded and hung up.

"OK take a left here," said Danny, looking at the GPS, "and a right up here."

Steve drove into a small condo area. "Unit 3," he said aloud. Steve looked out the window. _Unit 1...Unit 2...Unit 3._

"There!" said Danny at the same time.

Steve stopped the Camaro. "Danny you take the back. I'll take the front," he yelled at his partner.

Running to the front door of the one-story condo with his weapon drawn, Steve pounded on the door. "Rory Campbell, this is Five-0. Open up!" He counted to thirty. Not hearing any movement, he took a step back. His foot collided with the door with a satisfying _crunch. _The door flew off the hinges.

Steve entered the building, his eyes darting back and forth looking for any sign of Rory. There was no sign of life. No personal belongings or effects. Not even dishes in the kitchen. He quickly cleared the living room and kitchen. He heard Danny yelling, "Clear!" from the back of the condo.

"He's not here," Steve said in defeat.

"Steve, you might want to come here and check this out," Steve heard Danny yell from another room.

Following his partner's voice, he made his way to the bedroom. Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was devoid of any personal effects except for something on the nightstand that Danny was standing over. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's from Rory," Danny said, gesturing to the nightstand. Looking down, Steve saw it was a cellphone, no doubt the one that Rory had used to call and text him. Pinned beneath, was a handwritten note addressed to him.

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a latex glove. Using the glove as a barrier between his skin and the cellphone, he picked it up and moved it aside. He looked at the short note.

_McGarrett, _

_The man you're looking for is Joe Parsons. He works for a resort development firm. Diamond Head. _

_Thanks for your offer but I don't like getting involved in government stuff. All you need to know is that I'm done. Don't bother trying to find me. You won't._

_Rory_

"Joe Parsons." Steve turned to his partner. "Call Kono, let her know they're looking for a Joe Parsons. Tell her we're on our way."

* * *

"Sir, I'm Lou Fredericks. I am the CEO of Diamond Head Development. Your colleagues said that Joe Parsons, a project coordinator, is a prime suspect in the assassination attempt of Governor Denning?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"I assure you, Mr Parsons has been with us from the very start. Are you sure you have the right person?"

"Yes, we're sure. Where is he?"

"Down the hall this way. Please follow me."

Fredericks knocked on the door before opening it. "Joe, some officers from Hawaii Five-0 want to speak to you."

The man, who was presumed to be Parsons, jumped up at the sound of his door opening. Steve watched as dread filled the man's face once he saw the badge on his hip.

"Joe Parsons," Steve began, "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit the murder of the Governor of Hawaii."

He walked over to the man, forcing him to place his hands behind his back, and cuffing them together. He didn't even try and resist. Parsons's head hung down as he tried to avoid eye contact with either police officer or his likely now-former boss, Fredericks.

"Book 'em Danno."

* * *

Steve looked over at Parsons who was handcuffed to the chair in their interrogation room. He looked defeated and on the verge of tears. It was almost a pitiful sight.

"How did you find your hired gun? From what I hear, he's pretty good. Now tell me, how does a white-collared professional like you hire one of the world's best contract killers?" Steve asked, as he loomed over Parsons.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Parsons protested.

"Cut the act Parsons! We have records of the calls you made from your office to your hired gun." Steve showed Parsons a picture of the call log on the phone they found in Rory's condo. Parsons's office number appeared more than once.

Parsons's let his head fall, trying to break away from Steve's glare.

"He was recommended to me," Parsons began, "This British guy, I had a little fender bender with him a few years ago. When we went to exchange contact info, I accidentally caught a glimpse of all these guns in his trunk. I knew he was into some shady stuff but I was too scared to say anything to the police."

"This British guy, does he have a name?"

"Victor. He didn't give me a last name."

Steve felt his heart race at the name. Victor Hesse. He wondered if this was the same Victor. He made a mental note to ask him about it later. "So, when your permit got denied, you asked Victor if he knew any guns for hire?"

Parsons nodded. "He asked me for details and told me to expect a call in a couple of days. He wasn't lying because a couple of days after, I got a call from him."

"And your hired gun, you ever meet face to face?"

"No, we only ever called."

"You must be upset that your hired gun left the Governor alive."

"That fucker called me this morning and said he was cancelling the contract!"

"Well sometimes, even contract killers can have a moment of revelation," Steve said.

Parsons remained silent, staring at the ground. Steve could see the regret and guilt seeping from Parsons's eyes. After a minute of silence, he decided to push him: "Why did you do this Parsons? You've got a good job. A wife. Why throw it all away like this?"

Parsons looked up, making eye contact with Steve. "We had spent the last three years designing this resort! It would bring in tens of millions of dollars. We were going for our construction permit to start clearing the rainforest when Governor Denning decided to hope on into a conversation he wasn't invited to and rejected our application." He said the last part with disgust.

"So, you thought the most rational response to that was hiring a hitman to kill him?" Steve questioned.

"You don't understand!" Parsons protested, his chains rattling. "Our firm is tanking. We're on the verge of bankruptcy. We secured just enough equity and debt financing from the bank and private backers to build this resort. This was the very last option for our company to get back in the black!"

"Diamond Head Development going bankrupt is the least of your concerns now." Steve turned around and walked out of the room.

* * *

Although he had his man and had an airtight case against him, Steve still wanted to tie up loose ends before handing the case off to the DA. He handed Chin the number for Victor he had found written on a sticky note tucked in Parsons's daily planner. "Run a search for this number."

"Sure thing Steve," Chin responded, typing in the number on the touchscreen table. He sighed when the results came up. "It's a disposable phone. No way to track it," Chin paused, "Do you think this Victor is Victor Hesse?"

"Parsons's memory is a little fuzzy since the fender bender happened two or three years ago," Danny said, walking up to Steve and Chin, "I showed him a picture of Victor Hesse but he wasn't able to ID him as his Victor. Can't remember he said."

"With Rory's connections to Northern Ireland and to the Hesse brothers, I wouldn't be surprised if Parsons did run into Victor Hesse," Steve said solemnly, "But, there's no way to prove that."

"But, it does mean that Victor can still be on the island," replied Chin.

"Hey, I looked into the condo that Rory was renting," said Kono, as she walked into the HQ, and interrupting Steve from his thoughts. "Owners got a response from their Craigslist ad. The man identified himself as Tyler Brown from Cleveland, Ohio and paid for two weeks' rent in cash. Owners ID'ed him from Rory's Tyler Brown passport photo."

"Did he leave any forwarding information?" asked Steve.

"The home address he gave was of an empty parking lot in Cleveland. The phone number he gave was for the disposable phone he left behind," Kono paused, seeing the disappointment in Steve's face, "I'll keep looking. Rory's bound to have left some clues behind on where he's going next."

"Don't bother Kono. You won't find anything. Rory's gone."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Months had passed since Five-0 had arrested Parsons for conspiracy to commit murder. The evidence against him was overwhelming. He was sentenced to life in prison. With the scandal surrounding Parsons, Diamond Head Development's investors all dropped out. Without their financial support, the company soon declared bankruptcy.

Steve spent the first couple weeks expecting to get a text or phone call from Rory. The crime scene investigators had combed through Rory's rented condo but they never found the business card Steve had given him. That meant, he still had his number. But, nothing ever came from it. Rory never reached out to him again.

In between cases, Steve found himself looking through Rory's file and the evidence gathered in their investigation for any clues about his whereabouts. He knew it was fruitless. Rory's talent was getting up and disappearing. However, Steve kept coming back to it. He was like a dog and its old bone; always coming back and gnawing away.

He had called his friend, Miller, in Interpol who revealed that since Hawaii, Rory had gone dark. Combined with the letter Rory had left him and Parsons's testimony, the evidence pointed to him taking an extended break. A small part of Steve hoped that Rory would return just so he could find a new lead on his whereabouts.

Victor Hesse was now in prison. After kidnapping Chin and holding him for ransom, he was finally behind bars. When he brought up Parsons during his interrogation, he vehemently denied being the Victor that Parsons described. Steve thought he was lying but he had no solid evidence to back up his claim. He had to let it go.

However, he knew from reading Rory's file that he likely had some involvement with the Hesse's. The Police Service of Northern Ireland had recorded phone conversations of Victor and Anton communicating with someone named Rory. He wondered if Victor knew where Rory was.

Today was Saturday. After bringing down a human trafficking ring yesterday, he decided to give his team the day off. Usually, he would spend his day off working on restoring his father's Mercury Marquis. However, his thoughts of Rory and Victor convinced him otherwise.

* * *

From his seated position, he watched as a guard ushered Hesse into the visitation room. Steve took a good look at his nemesis on the other side of the glass. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, he looked thinner than the last time he had seen him. No doubt prison food was not the most nutritious.

Hesse's greasy hair was slicked back as usual. Dark circles fell under his eyes, likely from sleepless nights trying to defend himself. He made eye contact with him. His eyes had a similar cold, snake-like appearance to Rory's but unlike Rory, there was no sense of innocence attached to them. The man standing before him was a career criminal; a criminal of the worst kind.

Hesse smirked as he recognised his visitor. He sat down on the chair, grabbing the phone off the wall and leaning back, trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair. "Steven McGarrett, what a sight for sore eyes," Hesse said, grinning into the phone. "What can I do for you?"

"I want information."

"And, what makes you think I have it or even want to give it to you?" he said, shifting his weight forward as he stared into Steve's eyes.

Steve took out the passport photo taken from Rory's Tyler Brown passport. He held it against the glass, letting Hesse see. Steve saw a hint of recognition in Hesse's eyes. But, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. "Rory Campbell. What do you know about him?" Steve demanded.

"I'm sorry. That name doesn't sound familiar," Hesse responded. He leaned back in his chair and smirked at Steve's visible frustration.

However, that look of recognition he saw was all he needed to confirm his theory. Victor knew Rory. "Stop with the small talk. I know Campbell worked with you and your brother back in Northern Ireland. I frankly don't care about what you did together. I'm not trying to bring him in. I just want to talk to him."

"And, you think I know where he is?"

"Yes."

"I don't know where he is, McGarrett. I haven't seen him in a bit. And, that's the truth," Hesse paused. He leaned forward in his chair, minimising the space between him and Steve. "McGarrett, Rory is my friend," he whispered, "Friends are hard to come by in my line of work. Especially, friends on the opposite side of the political spectrum."

Hesse's use of Rory's first name did not go unnoticed. The two of them were closer than Steve had initially suspected. "That's one thing we have in common then," Steve began. He saw the confused look cross Hesse's face. "I know that you were the one who connected Joe Parsons to Rory for the contract against the Governor's life. After Rory put the Governor in the hospital, he showed up at my place and we talked. If I wanted to, Rory would be behind bars with you right now. But, I chose to let him go because I saw something in him that was different. He deserves so much more."

Hesse sighed, leaning back into his chair. He seemed to understand what Steve was saying. He looked down at the ground, breaking off eye contact with the other man. "Morality is sometimes grey but most of us had a choice between being a law-abiding citizen and leading a life of crime. Even the child that steals the bread to survive has a say in their future. Rory was never offered that luxury. Fate chose for him." He looked back up at Steve.

Steve suddenly remembered what Rory said on his couch that night 5 months ago: "_This was what I was raised to do." _

He wondered how Rory ended up where he was. Hesse's statement added another layer of complexity to his story. However, it reinforced his desire to help him. "I want to help him. I want to offer him a way out," Steve said.

"Government work?" Hesse asked.

Steve nodded.

"Rory's a good kid," he paused. There was sincerity in his voice; something Steve had never seen before from either of the Hesse brothers. "I'll pass along that you're looking to talk to him but on one condition."

Steve eyed him suspiciously. Just because they shared a mutual friend didn't mean that Steve was going to let him have any favours. "What's that?"

"That you take care of him better than I took care of my brother."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It had been two weeks since he talked to Hesse about Rory. Since then, he found himself checking his phone more frequently than before. He still hadn't heard anything from Rory and was beginning to believe Hesse had duped him. Then again, he was in prison; that would no doubt slow down communications.

He could tell his team was becoming concerned with his preoccupation with the case. After finishing up work early, he dismissed his team. While they all went home, Steve stayed in his office, reading over Rory's file again, trying to find any more information about his whereabouts.

When he finally glanced at his watch, he saw it was almost 10 pm. It hadn't seemed that long. Steve decided he should probably head home now. Standing up, he was about to grab his bag when he heard the glass doors leading into the HQ open. He immediately stopped, straining his ears to hear anything. No one should be here at his time. Tip-toeing out of his office, his right hand hovered over his service weapon, ready to draw and fire upon the intruder. The hallway was dark and he wasn't able to see anyone.

"Who's there?" Steve yelled into the darkness.

"Commander McGarrett is that you?" he heard a voice call back to him. "It's Kwan. The cleaning guy. Uhh...do you know where the light switch is?"

Steve sighed, moving his hand away from his service weapon. He forgot that the cleaners sometimes worked during the evening. "Yes, I'll turn it on for you." He walked over and switched the lights on. With the hallway suddenly illuminated, Steve saw Kwan standing by the doors and looking somewhat lost with his cleaning cart outside.

"Thanks!" Kwan said, flashing Steve a thumbs-up.

Steve nodded at the man before walking back into his office. Picking up his bag, he made his way out of the building and to his truck. By the time he drove home, he was exhausted. Remembering that he hadn't had dinner, he felt his stomach rumble but ignored it. He'd just make up for it tomorrow during breakfast. He was too tired to make himself a meal right now.

He was about to head upstairs and go to bed when he noticed something. It was a jacket, a jacket that he didn't recognise, draped over a chair. Someone else was in his house. For the second time tonight, he found his right hand hovering over his firearm. The house was still dark and Steve took his time, carefully tip-toeing around, trying yet again to find an intruder.

"Rory," he gasped. In front of him was Rory, passed out on his couch again. This time he clutched an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand instead of scotch.

Rory must not have been a deep sleep as his eyes fluttered open as soon as Steve said his name. Rory looked up and made eye contact with Steve. "Victor told me ye were lookin' for me." Rory sat up and smiled. He seemed much more sober this time. "I got tired of waitin' for ya so I helped meself to ye liquor again."

"You came." Steve sat down across from Rory.

"I did. Whatcha wanna talk about?"

"Have you changed your mind on my offer?"

"McGarrett, look. What difference will it make if I work for a government versus independently? At the end of the day, my job is still 'ta kill people."

"There's more to being an operative than just killing people. Maybe you won't get to live a normal life. But, if you do choose government work, it at the very least offers you a level of safety and security that independent work doesn't have," Steve paused. He saw the look of uncertainty on Rory's face. "You're here right now. That tells me that at the very least, there's a part of you that's interested."

"McGarrett...I…" Rory stuttered.

"Tell me about yourself," Steve said suddenly, changing the subject of the conversation.

"What?" Rory was taken aback by his statement.

"Tell me about yourself. How did you end up here?" Steve asked. Part of it was to change the subject matter to make Rory more comfortable talking with him. Part of it was curiosity of his background.

"Ye lucky I'm tipsy," Rory responded with a smirk, "You can blame Michael for all of this. Don't ask me what his surname is. I don't even know. He taught me everything I know. Took me in when I was 5...after I ran away from the orphanage. Raised me to be a killer. Michael's dead now so don't bother tryin' to find him."

Steve felt his breath hitch at the information Rory just presented to him. "How old were you when you first killed someone?" he asked.

Rory didn't react to the question any different than he would react to someone asking if he wanted coffee. He took a moment to think. "Eight," he said.

Steve shook his head in disgust. An eight year old shouldn't have been spending his days learning how to kill people. "Where were your parents during all of this?"

Rory shrugged, suddenly looking somber. "Me mam gave me up to the church when I was born. Didn't even have the decency to go inside. Just dropped me off on the doorsteps." He laid down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling, breaking eye contact with Steve. "I'm sorry about ye pa. Horrible way to die."

Steve stiffed when he heard his father being mentioned. He hadn't expected Rory to bring it up.

Rory must have sensed Steve's discomfort by the sudden silence because he quickly got back up to a seating position. "Sorry didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's OK," he paused, thinking about what to say next. "Have you ever thought of reaching out to your mother?" he asked

Rory shook his head. "Nah. As a kid I used to daydream about her. I used to always imagine walkin' down the street and hearin' someone yell 'Rory!'; turnin' around and seeing me ma runnin' towards me to give me a hug."

"Why not reach out to her now? I have connections in the UK who can help track her down," Steve suggested.

"Thanks McGarrett but it wouldn't help. There's no records of who me ma is. All I know is that she's probably Catholic since she dropped me off at a Catholic church. That's it. Hell, she might have even been a Protestant who was too ashamed of herself."

Steve heard the pain in his voice. This was his chance. This was his chance to recruit him. "Rory, I'll make you a deal. You accept my offer, use your talents for Uncle Sam, and I'll find your mother."

Rory stiffened up. Leaning forward, he stared directly at Steve. "Don't make promises you can't keep." The coldness in his voice, that same coldness from their first encounter, was back.


	12. Epilogue

AN: Wow I'm finally done! First actual multi-chapter story I've finished. I was procrastinating writing the epilogue for the past year or so (sorry!). Finally sat down this weekend and typed it all out. I hope you enjoyed this story. It was a blast writing.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Steve stepped off the plane to see the grey, overcast skyline of Dublin. He quickly picked up his singular piece of baggage, a duffle bag, from the luggage carousel. He wasn't sure how long this was going to take so he made sure to bring at least a week's worth of clothing. He chuckled to himself, imagining what Danny would say about him using his Navy-issued duffle bag on a civilian trip.

He called a taxi to Connolly Station. He quickly paid the taxi driver, giving him a sizable tip, and walked into the building. Although the front entrance of the station looked old, the inside was surprisingly modern compared to American train stations. He'd already booked his train ticket to Belfast so he walked straight to his gate.

As the urban city turned into rolling green hills, Steve reflected on the beautiful island. Although he had been to the Republic of Ireland before, this was his first time in Northern Ireland. With all the historic violence he had heard about during the Troubles, combined with everything that had happened with the Hesse brothers, he had made a conscious decision to stay away from the country. This would be his first time here.

The train to Belfast took a little less than two hours. He disembarked, carrying his lone duffle bag with him. He called another taxi, reading out the address he had scrawled on a piece of paper. It was for the headquarters of Catholic orphanages: _Northern Ireland Catholic Children's Society._

* * *

"I'm looking for the records of a child who was sent to live in one of your children's homes in Northern Ireland shortly after he was born in 1994. He calls himself Rory now but that's likely not the name he was given at birth. He also ran away when he was around 5 years old and never came back."

Steve watched as the older woman behind the desk typed something on the computer. She was kind, with almost a grandmother-like mannerism. She looked surprisingly comfortable with the entire situation - as if this wasn't the first time she had an American asking about the identity of a Northern Irish orphan. Steve wondered how many orphans had passed through here.

"Do you know which county or town this child was in?" she asked.

"Uh Belfast."

"Let me get those records for you," she said.

Steve watched the woman leave her desk and down the stairs to his left. Ten minutes had passed when she appeared, holding a large leather-bound book.

"Here are the records of all youth living in our Belfast home from 1994." She placed the book on the desk and opened it up. Steve watched her scanning the yellowed pages. "Our Belfast home accepted eight new youth, five of them male, that year. You said he came as a newborn?"

"Yes. He was abandoned at the front steps of a local church shortly after he was born."

"A very unfortunate start to a baby's life. Is this the child you are looking for?" She turned the book around and pushed it towards Steve. He took the book with both hands and glanced at the first entry.

_Name: Gerard Johnston  
__Sex: Male  
__Date of Birth: 4th of October, 1994  
__Date Baptized: 6th of October, 1994  
__Parish: Belfast  
__County: Antrim  
__Denomination: Roman Catholic  
__Father: Unknown  
__Mother: Unknown  
__Date Accepted: 18th of October, 1994  
__Home: Belfast_

_Abandoned at the back entrance of the Parish of Saint John in County Antrim between 1 to 5am on the 4th of October, 1994. Taken in at 7:30am. Estimated no more than 2 days old. Displays no sickness despite duration left outside for. No identifying information. Given the name Gerard to honour Saint Jerome Emiliani, the patron saint of abandoned children. Entered the Belfast home on 18th of October, 1994. May the Lord bless this strong child for greatness. _

The dates, Gerard's age, the details of his abandonment; it was Rory. It had to be. Gerard Johnston had to be Rory Campbell.

Steve quickly read over the entry again. This time, the last line caught his eye. "May the Lord bless this strong child for greatness…" he mumbled to himself. Steve never considered himself a religious man but he felt that somehow, God had been watching over Rory from the day he was left on the church's doorstep.

"Mr McGarrett? Everything alright?" asked the woman, concern evident on her face.

"Yes...yes I'm fine."

"I take it this is the child you are looking for?"

"Yes...yes I think it is," Steve stumbled.

"Would you like me to provide you his file?"

"Please."

The woman came back a few minutes later carrying a thick manilla folder. She handed it to Steve who eagerly opened it up. The first thing he noticed was a picture of a young toddler, probably no older than 3 or 4 years old. He looked scared in the photo as he clutched what appeared to be a stuffed dog to his chest. He removed the photo and flipped it over. On the back, with blue ink, it read: _Gerard Johnston, aged 3 ¾. _

He returned the photo to the folder and began looking through the various written entries. Most entries discussed normal day-to-day activities, however, one entry quickly caught his eye.

_11th of July, 1996_

_Fiona Breslin, 22-year old unwed single mother of 2, claims Gerard Johnston was the baby she gave up in the Parish of Saint John in October 1994. She stated Gerard was born out of wedlock and does not know the father. Miss Breslin is unemployed and living with her two other children born out of wedlock to different fathers in her mother's house. She requested to adopt Gerard. Based on Miss Breslin's employment status, moral character, and prior abandonment of Gerard, we denied her request._

Fiona Breslin. Rory's mother.

He closed the manilla folder, handing it back to the woman. "Thank you. You have been a tremendous help." Steve smiled at the lady, then turned around and left the building. As he walked outside, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialed a familiar number. "Miller. This is McGarrett. I need another favour."

* * *

McGarrett awkwardly trailed behind Miller as he strode down the street. They were in the heart of the Falls Road, a Catholic neighbourhood in West Belfast. _This all used to be a no-go area for the Brits, _Miller had explained.

Steve remained silent as Miller knocked on the door to the townhouse. He heard commotion from the other side. Soon, the door was opened and a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties appeared. The first thing Steve noticed were her eyes. They were dull, almost lifeless but they were the same as Rory's.

"Hello, Miss Fiona Breslin?" Miller asked.

"Yeah that's me," the woman responded. "Who are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Martin Miller with Interpol." Miller pointed to Steve standing behind him. "This is my friend Detective Steve McGarrett of the Hawaii Five-0 State Police."

"What do you two want?" Fiona asked, slightly annoyed. "I'm busy. And, I haven't even been to Hawaii before." She was especially eyeing Steve with extreme suspicion.

Steve stepped forward. "We're here to talk to you about your son," he paused, examining the lady in front of him. There was a spark of happiness in her dull tired eyes. "Gerard."

Fiona stepped back in shock. Steve saw the tears forming in her eyes. "Gerard...Gerard...is he OK? The nuns said he ran away. They told me he would come back. But he never did. They told me Gerard was probably dead and to forget he ever existed." Fiona couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Steve reached out to Fiona and stood there as she cried into his shoulder.

They stood like that for what felt like an hour; Fiona sobbing as Steve rubbed her back to comfort her. As Fiona began to regain her composure, she invited the two men into her house.

"Please, grab a seat," she said, gesturing to the chairs surrounding her small dining table.

Both men took a seat. Steve looked around at the small townhouse. The walls were barren with the exception of a small crucifix that hung on the wall across from him. The kitchen looked straight out of a 1970's appliance catalogue. It was clear that Fiona hadn't upgraded her kitchen in the past 40 years. The stove had clearly been white when it was first purchased but it had since turned an ugly shade of yellow. The fridge was covered in papers, stuck on with small magnets. She was clearly not the most well-off.

Fiona appeared and sat across from Steve. "Gerard...is he alive?" she asked. Her eyes were still red from sobbing. It pained Steve to see her this way. She clearly loved Rory. However, for the past 16 years, she wouldn't have known if Rory was dead or alive. She was a distraught mother, desperate to reconnect with her son. _There's no pain like that of a mother losing her son, _Steve thought to himself.

He nodded. "Gerard...Gerard changed his name to Rory Campbell and...and he's been doing well for himself." It felt weird calling Rory by his birth name. _Gerard_ didn't suit him.

"Does...does he know about me? Where is he now? Is he still in Northern Ireland?" The questions came tumbling out of Fiona.

"Rory spent some time in Northern Ireland. He's been working around Europe and North America for the past few years. He works for the US government now," Steve explained.

"What does he do?"

Steve sighed. "I can't say. Rory's work is highly classified."

"Oh…" Fiona responded, looking down at the table, clearly saddened by Steve's response.

"Fiona," Steve said. She looked up at Steve. "Rory is an incredible young man. You should be proud to call him your son. His work is classified but you should know that what he does helps save the lives of Americans every day."

Fiona smiled. For the first time since he met her, she truly looked happy.

* * *

Steve just wanted a cold beer. Today had been incredibly taxing. He had chased a perp through downtown Honolulu, only to lose him in the crowd of mainland tourists. 10 minutes later, he spotted the perp trying to sneak his way out of the crowd. Steve immediately gave chase. He was able to apprehend him but only after a 3 km parkour chase through the more crime-ridden parts of downtown.

He was exhausted.

He walked to his fridge, pulling out a beer. As he made his way to his living room, he grabbed the stack of mail he had left on the kitchen counter.

As he combed through his mail, he saw a small envelope. It was addressed to him. Whoever the sender was, they hadn't bothered writing out his first name. All it said was _S. McGarrett_ followed by his address. He looked at the corner of the envelope and frowned when he saw the kangaroo. He didn't know anyone from Australia. Or at least, no one who would send him a letter.

Cutting the envelope open, a single photo fell out.

He picked it up. It was a picture of five people; two men, two women, and a young girl who appeared to be around 5 or 6 years old. The same age when Rory ran away from the orphanage and began living with _Michael._ They were all smiling, posed in front of the Sydney Opera House. Steve recognised the two people in the centre. It was Rory and his mother, Fiona. Rory had his arm draped around Fiona. In his other hand, he held the young girl who was resting her head on Rory's shoulder. The other people in the photo looked to be around the same age as Rory but Steve didn't recognise them.

He flipped the photo around. Written in blue-ink, it read:

_The Breslin Family, 2011_


End file.
